


Old Friends

by Silex



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Matriarchal society, Mutual Grooming, No humans, Primate Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: A Queen has her responsibilities, but so do her attendants. An exploration of a day in the life of two distinctly nonhuman Mermaids and their concerns and routines.





	Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



> I've noticed that this seems to be a frequent request of yours and so when I saw that you'd signed up for this exchange I just had to fill it for you. I hope it's how you imagines it would be.

As one of the Queen’s oldest and dearest friends Trillara knew how to tell when her monarch was distressed. Right now she could see the way Queen Reihmaria’s tail fin was fanning slightly, while the rest of her fins were held stiffly. It was a sure sign that she was deep in thought and that the thoughts were troubling.

She waited in understanding silence as the Queen looked at her reflection in the polished shell mirror, looking for that slight tilt of her head or twitch of her tail that meant that would let her know it was time to say something.

The Queen was, as always, a striking sight, her silky black fur flowing over her back and arms, moving ever so slightly in the gentle currents running through the room. Trillara wanted so much to run her fingers through that hair, and through the longer strands on the Queens arms to where it grew short and sparse across her chest and sloping breasts, but she waited as the Queen swam in place, looking at her reflection, staring into her own soft brown eyes, set deep in a kindly wrinkled grey face as though she expected the reflection to offer an answer to whatever question was on her mind. Her lips, pale and almost but not quite pink, were pressed into a thoughtful line rather than her usual slight smile. The longer tufts of fur around her face and beneath her chin were unruly and Trillara knew exactly how she would smooth them, carefully straightening every out of place hair, gently combing away loose strands with her fingers and ornate combs of carved abalone shell. The Queen’s favorite set of combs was a pleasure to look at and a delight to use, not just because of the craftsmanship, because of the significance behind them, a gift from her youngest daughter, given for no reason at all.

Those gifts were the best of all, Reihmaria had told her, ones given spontaneously from the heart, because when you looked at them you could see the joy and when you held them it was like holding the one who had given it.

Once the Queen made it clear that it was time Trillara would take those combs and begin, starting with the fur down Reihmaria’s back, pulling clean, smooth lines down to the start of the Queen’s tail, taking great care in the area where fur slowly gave way to scales. It was the little lines of hair down the back of the Queen’s tail that held her attention right now, how they flowed and waved between smooth, white and blue scales like kelp between surf polished stones.

A faint blush of yellow was showing at the edges of those scales, one that would, over the course of the next few tides, begin to deepen to orange and then red in great, swirling patterns until Reihmaria’s scales glowed like the setting sun by the time the moon had started to wax again, its force pulling on them as surely as it pulled the ocean. Years had passed since Reihmaria had taken a male during her glowing time, and Trillara wondered if that was what had her friend so occupied. Did she want to try for one last child before her time of bearing ended? Or was she thinking about her children and how soon her eldest daughter might be deciding that it was time to give the Queen a granddaughter to coo over and shower affection upon?

“I worry about how to best greet our guests,” the Queen said gently, “They are not like us, but they try to be accommodating. I wonder if we are doing enough to return the gesture.”

Ah, that was her concern, a far more prickly issue than grandchildren.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Trillara said with a thoughtful smile, flicking her tail to swim over to the Queen’s side and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “They are understanding.”

 _Far more so than expected_ , was what she thought, but didn’t add. The wolf-headed sirens, ruled by a fearsome King, had, after years of threatening war, finally decided that peace was in the best interest for both their peoples. It was a simple matter really, neither of their peoples laid claim to any territories that the other wanted, the sirens preferring harsh, wave swept volcanic beaches and the deep, murky blue-green waters surrounding them, while her own people preferred the clear shallows of coral atolls. Trade was mutually beneficial and negotiations had begun. The siren King had sent a team of stonemasons and artisans to build an embassy on an island both peoples had agreed upon, one with flat, sunbaked platforms of smooth stone for the sirens to bask on and pools of water for her own people to rest in. That was how different their people were, the sirens breathed harsh thin air, unable to stay submerged for any length of time without risking harm.

That was why peace had been inevitable.

And now the King of the sirens had, after much deliberation and outrage from his own people, chosen to send his daughter as an ambassador. Though the story was that he had been grooming her for years for the position, ever since it became clear that the war he wanted was impossible, the sirens felt it a position better filled by one of the princes or some nobleman. It was a gesture of understanding by the King, not of contempt as his own people seemed to believe and though she moved to reassure, Trillara could understand her Queen’s worry.

Humming softly to herself, a melody she remembered from childhood, though she’d forgotten the words, she began to carefully smooth the fur of the Reihmaria’s shoulders.

Reihmaria sighed softly, her face relaxing into a smile, “That’s what makes me worry. Their King is wise and far less bloodthirsty than his father was. I feel awful for thinking this, but I’m glad that their old King died when his son was so young. It gave the poor boy time to grow up and find his own way. This peace is him finally leaving behind his father and now he sends his daughter to us. How frightening it must be for her and how worried he must be.”

Trillara smiled and patted the Queen on her shoulder, running her fingers through the strands of fur there, gently pulling away a tangle, “That is because you are kind.”

And that was why she was such a good Queen. Reihmaria was kind and understanding, as a Queen was expected to be, but more than that, she was able to open her heart to even the strangest of beings. That she could feel pity for the son of a man that had once tried to take over several island chains in the queendom. The attempt had failed when the islands proved too warm for the siren troops stationed on them and the fish too hard for them to hunt, thanks to careful efforts of the Queen’s own troops to herd them away from the areas where the sirens could easily swim to. If it had been a war, it had been one of attrition and neither a loss or a victory for either side.

“Thank you,” the Queen placed her hand on Trillara’s, stroking the sparse hairs that grew there, an invitation for the grooming to begin in proper, “I still worry though. How do we return the gesture? The sirens are not like us, but the girl is going to need comfort. Do I mirror her father’s gesture and send a daughter of mine to be her companion and teach her our ways or do I send a son?”

Though it was a serious matter, the two of them laughed at that thought. Some of the young men of the queendom were fascinated by the sirens with their warlike ways and pressed shell armor, as young men so often were, and Trillara war sure that Merikku, the Queen’s youngest son, would dart for the chance to see sirens up close.

“He’s such a precocious boy,” Trillara giggled, bringing her hands up to the longer fur at the sides of the Queen’s face. Absentmindedly she wondered if it would be best to leave that fur to flow freely or to fasten it back with pins of shell and pearl. Blue pearls and silvery shell like constellations against the Queen’s night black fur would create a lovely contrast and compliment her tail wonderfully, but at the same time her fur was so beautiful on its own that it was a difficult decision.

Reihmaria nodded with mock gravity, her sense of humor getting the better of her, even on a matter of such gravity, “Yes, Merikku certainly is and it might be good for him, but at the same time I wonder if Sharalan would be a better fit and a poorer decision for it.”

Sharalan was Reihmaria’s middle daughter and as such had always strove to prove herself. Even from a young age, before her scales had begun to blush for the first time, she had sought the attentions of boys her age, not as mates but as friends, a tendency that had continued on into adulthood. Trillara agreed with her Queen that Sharalan was most likely to provide her with her first grandchild, but that it would also be nice if she were to start spending more time with women of her own age rather than the collection of elderly advisors she sought out when she desired the company of women. All of the old women were wonderful, kindly and wise grandmothers, but they were too old for such a young girl and did little to take the edge off her intensity.

At the same time, the sirens were an intense people, with their hard black eyes, harsh language of quick barks, and sudden movements. It was easier than it should have been to imagine Sharalan befriending one.

“It might help her grow up, get her away from all the boys she spends her time with,” Trillara offered, “Because a siren Princess is still a Princess.”

Reihmaria’s eyes brightened, her face lighting up with joy, “That’s true! The sirens have their ways, strange as they may be, and the only men allowed near the Princess are her guards. Sharalan would have to leave her little band behind to take the position and I’m sure she would want it. I’ll ask around and see which of the nobles have daughters who would be a good fit to join her.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Trillara agreed, reaching past the Queen to take a comb and strand of shell beads from the table.

Reihmaria caught Trillara’s hand in her own, “It’s all how you look at things. A problem can solve itself and others if approached the right way and if that happens it’s not a problem, it’s an answer.”

Smiling Trillara leaned in to kiss her Queen on the cheek, “You are wise as you are beautiful.”

“Beautiful maybe,” Reihmaria teased, “But don’t compliment me on my wisdom for that one. It was a saying my auntie was fond of, tides rest her sleep. Also, not those shells today. I think orange coral would be best. A belt of it around my waist and maybe golden pearls. We have time to take our time.”

She flicked her tail mischievously, making the yellow blush at the edges of her scales shimmer, then entwined it with Trillara’s. The Queen’s fins fluttered against her as Reihmaria turned to face her, wrapping her arms around her in a loose hug, the comfortable sort that was so often shared by old friends.

A Queen had responsibilities, but so did her attendants and this was one that Trillara found most enjoyable. She nuzzled Reihmaria’s neck, burying her muzzle in the soft, silky fur there and planting kiss after kiss across her neck and shoulders as their tails held them in place, scales finding traction against scales. Reihmaria was no longer young, but the muscles of her tail were powerful, a contrast to the gentleness of her arms that Trillara had always found fascinating. The Queen would always hold with her tail and stroke with her arms and hands, much as she was doing now, running long, nimble fingers through the long fur of Trillara’s back, while Trillara had always held with her arms and hands and kept her tail held loose to flutter her fins and tickle tender places.

She kissed Reihmaria on the muzzle, watching the pink line of her lips purse to return the kiss. As always it was slow, hesitant. The Queen was not a good kisser, but there was no rule that said a Queen had to be good at everything.

“Friends like you are a blessing,” Reihmaria whispered the words against her lips, then stopped stroking her back long enough to reach behind herself and take one of her prized abalone combs from the table.

Trillara reached for the comb, but Reihmaria shook her head, “Let me comb you. Your fingers are more skilled than mine and don’t need the help.”

That was not at all true, but Trillara wasn’t about to argue with a compliment like that.

The Queen gently guided her lower so that she could run the comb through the thickest fur at the top of Trillara’s head. It was an action whose purpose was twofold, allowing Trillara to plant her kisses lower, gently nibbling at the thin dusting of fur above Reihmaria’s breasts.

Reihmaria paused in her combing, having found a tangle that required fingers to deal with. Carefully she plucked at the individual strands, never pulling or yanking as she worked the knot out. Satisfied she combed Trillara’s hair smooth.

Trillara let out a coo of pleasure, rising in pitch as the Queen ran a hand down the back of her neck and shoulders, playing with her fur as she did. Reihmaria has many advisors, as was fitting for a Queen, but Trillara was her oldest friend and most trusted advisor, which meant that grooming sessions like these were a regular occurrence between the two of them, not so often as to suggest favoritism, but frequent enough that they each knew what the other liked.

“I remember how you adorned yourself at my coronation, a halo of sunset colored shells all around your shoulders and then strands of them trailing from your tail. When you swam it was like music, the way they jangled against each other,” Reihmaria reminisced.

Trillara smiled at the memory, closing her eyes in bliss as Reihmaria continued to stroke her back, “You always admired my dancing, ever since we were younger, it was a natural choice.”

“It wasn’t just the sound of your shells and it’s not just your dancing,” the Queen smiled as Trillara kissed her on the chest, pursed lips brushing against her breasts, “It was your laughter that was the most beautiful music. That and the joy in your eyes. I know I’ve told you enough that you must be tired of it, but when you’re happy your whole face lights up. Seeing you happy brings me joy.”

Trillara nuzzled the longer, softer strands of fur beneath Reihmaria’s breasts. Below and to either side the Queen’s gills opened and closed slowly, relaxedly.

It was a gesture of the utmost trust, to allow another to groom one’s sides, along the gills, a gesture exchanged countless times between the two of them. Brow furrowed in concentration, hands making swift, deft movements, Trillara smoothed the fur back from the edges of the Queen’s gills, first one side and then the other, checking the corners for any sigh of problems, accumulations of loose hair where small creatures might hide, any sign of illness in the bright red tissue. There was no cause for concern though, as always all was well with the Queen. She was the picture of health, and in Trillara’s opinion, beauty.

It was something that amazed her, that one as lovely as the Queen had chosen her, of all people as her primary advisor. It was true she had long been known for being keenly insightful, but she was far from lovely, with her long, narrow face and her nose at such an angle. If one was to describe her kindly they would say that she was unique, or maybe dignified looking, but never beautiful, unlike the Queen.

“You are lovely,” Reihmaria spoke as though reading her mind. Then she ran a hand across Trillara’s face, slender fingers curling beneath her chin, teasing the sparse hairs there, a few white tufts that had never darkened with age, “You are wise beyond your years, but you are also lovely. Anyone who doesn’t see that hasn’t actually looked at you.”

Leaning back Reihmaria fluttered her fins to hold herself in place in the water as Trillara placed her hands on the Queen’s waist to trace the smooth bumps of scales beneath her fur. Unlike the sirens, their kind had no clear boundaries between their parts, a slow blending of soft skin to pearlescent scales. Perhaps that was what made sirens so prone to conflict, they sought clean delineation in all things to mirror their physical form, rather than focusing on subtleties.

It was a thought to save for later, when the two of them were discussing the situation with the sirens again, for now all her attention was on the Queen’s scales and the hairs running between them. It was a difficult place one that required careful attention, a process that Trillara found as relaxing to preform as to have done to her.

It let her better appreciate the nuances of the patterning of Reihmaria’s scales, the hairs between them, growing thicker along the sides of her tail and becoming increasingly sparse towards the center. Of course the decrease in fur made the warm highlights of color on the edges of the Queen’s scales all the more visible and the faint yellow hue grew deeper and more widespread the closer the center of her tail. She was not yet in her full blush of color, far from it, but the first hints of orange were appearing around her slit, drawing attention to it.

Trillara looked up, requesting permission.

Rehimaria nodded, “You have such skilled fingers.”

Smiling at the compliment Trillara kissed the Queen on her slit, brushing her lips over smooth scales. Soon the area would be almost too sensitive to touch with anything else, but for now both lips and hands could be used. Lips first though, because she loved the feeling of the Queen’s scales beneath her tongue, the taste of her.

Rehimaria crooned and pressed her tail against Trillara’s side, wrapping them together.

Thus encouraged, Trillara dipped her fingers gently into the Queen’s slit, the ultimate gesture of trust and friendship, one only shared between two women who knew each other intimately and deeply loved each other.

Careful, gentle, never past the first joint, Trillara used her fingers to caress the Queen’s slit from inside, feeling powerful muscles tense and release around her. She knew all the right spots, all the places to touch to make the Rehimaria wriggle and coo and relax against her.

Withdrawing her fingers she kissed Rehimaria’s slit again, dragging her lips over the scales there, then she slid upwards in the Queen’s grip so that they were face to face, breast to breast, belly to belly.

Even though she hadn’t yet started to blush with color Trillara entwined her tail with Rehimaria’s so that they could rub slits.

Occasionally one or the other would bring their hands down between them for a gentle caress, but it was mostly contact and friction between their scales.

Rehimaria hugged her tightly with arms and tail and Trillara cooed in her arms, nibbling the fur of her neck and burying her hands in the thick, soft fur of her back.

Fins fluttered against each other as the two embraced, suspended in the water.

Trillara kissed the Queen again and again on the face and muzzle, twisting her tail this way and that way across Rehimaria’s slit, knowing just how to use her scales to stimulate her. Rehimaria returned the touch with slower, more deliberate movements as she always did. Even when she was the one being attended she was considerate in such things, always careful about her partner’s enjoyment with generosity befitting of royalty.

There was no need to rush towards finishing, there was no need to even worry about finishing, something they both understood. Everything was about enjoying the comfort of the other’s body and taking pleasure in the shared contact, though there was still the chance for a bit of fun.

Laughing, Trillara twirled in Rehimaria’s embrace, spinning out of it, swimming in a series of quick circles around her and then positioning herself upside down so that her tail rested against the Queen’s shoulder, doubling back so that she could run the ruffled edge of her fin across Rehimaria’s face. It was a difficult position to hold and one that could not be held for long, but it was one Trillara was especially good at.

“Are you going to –” The Queen’s question ended in a bubbling giggle when Trillara stuck her tongue out and ran it across her slit. The giggles turned to gasps when Trillara worked her tongue inside and wiggled it back and forth.

The smooth, powerful muscles of the Queen’s tail tensed and Trillara could have sworn that the blush of her scales grew deeper.

Laughing she flipped back upright and swam in another circle around Rehimaria, “Was that what you needed?”

“Yes, exactly the thing,” Rehimaria nodded gratefully, then grabbed Trillara by the arm to smooth the fur of her head, which had become disheveled by her rapid movements, “It’s a shame that I have trouble with such acrobatics, otherwise I’d return the favor.”

“Perhaps we can visit the kelp gardens once this whole siren matter is settled,” Trillara offered thoughtfully, “With the fronds to hold onto you should be able to manage just fine.”

“That sounds lovely,” Rehimaria agreed, “A trip to the gardens to relax and calm down after this is all taken care of. Now do you have other matters to attend to, or would you mind fetching Sharalan? I need to see about gathering a proper set of attendants for her at the embassy.”

“Of course.”

Trillara left the room to allow the Queen to finish adorning herself.

Her duties to the Queen were many and varied, but always a pleasure.


End file.
